I inserted the slicer spike back into the panel. The reset sequence was slower than the breach. It had to rebuild the access codes it had scrambled.
Sixty seconds.
I watched the door. Listened. The gala’s chaos was holding, but it wouldn’t last.
Brilliant woman. The thought came unbidden. Unexpected. I’d worked with dozens of partners over the years. Competent people who understood their roles and executed them properly. But Carys was different. She hadn’t just followed the plan. She’d made the plan possible, using her own resources to create chaos I never could have.
And she’d done it while wearing Tarsus’s collar.
That memory surfaced again. His hand on her shoulder. His fingers tracing the platinum edge. The casual ownership.
I forced the image away and focused on the panel. Forty seconds left.
The reset sequence required absolute stillness. Any disruption would flag the system. My hand remained steady, watching the progress indicator on the spike’s small display.
Twenty seconds.
My comm necklace vibrated against my chest. Once. Twice. Three times.
Danger signal.
I pulled the civilian comm relay from my pocket. The one I’d used to coordinate with Carys. The screen was lit.
It wasn’t a voice. It was a data burst. Flinx. He must have hacked my comm.
TARSUS COMING. WITH CURATOR. GUARDS. 90 SECONDS.
Every plan I’d made was worthless now.
I tapped the comm twice. Acknowledgment. Flinx would relay that to Carys through their link.
Getting out wasn’t an option. The only exit was the door, and Tarsus was already in the corridor. That left hiding.
I looked around the office. Limited options. The desk had no bottom panel. The artifact displays were too exposed. Behind the door would be obvious the moment someone entered.
The maintenance shaft.
I’d noticed it during the consultation. Standard building infrastructure. Located behind a decorative panel in the wall opposite the desk. Big enough for repairs. Big enough for a person if they didn’t mind uncomfortable positions.
Ten seconds left on the lock reset.
I watched the display. The molecular structure rebuilding itself. Almost complete.
Five seconds.
The reset finished. The lock clicked. Secure.
I pulled the spike free and shoved it, with the comm, into my jacket. I crossed the office in two strides.
The decorative panel came free with minimal pressure. The maintenance shaft behind it was exactly as cramped as I’d expected. Metal walls. Exposed wiring. The kind of space designed for maintenance drones and very desperate people.
I climbed in.
The panel clicked back into place just as I heard the office door’s lock disengage.
I went still. Controlled my breathing. Slowed my heart rate through sheer discipline.
The shaft’s ventilation grate gave me a narrow view of the office. I could see the desk. The empty velvet cloth. The door.
